Lost and found
by JV4ever
Summary: Family are the hardest people to keep secrets from. And no secret can be kept forever.
1. Prologue: Eighteen years earlier

**A/N: I told you I'd redo it... it just took longer than excpected. Probably because I made so many changes - it'll probably look like a completely different story now, lol. Anyway, let me know what you think! **

* * *

"I'd better be going," Laura Hardy announced, leaning back in her chair as she stretched, pushing her long blonde hair back over her shoulders as she looked at the clock.

"Now? It feels like we only just got started!" her friend complained, dropping her head on the table theatrically, "do you have to?"

"Nat, you always say you're not ready and then you get better grades than all of us," Laura rebuked, "and yeah, I have to. Fenton and I have an arrangement, and I have to get back if I'm going to hold up my end of it. Besides, we both have exams, and I can't leave him alone with Frank all night can I?"

Frank was the eighteen year old's one year old son who, although he never caused any trouble, was a handful as he was just beginning to learn to crawl and, with both parents attending university and working part time, they had had to work out a system that they could share the responsibilities while trying to leave him with a babysitter as little as possible.

"I can't believe you're married with a kid," Susan remarked as she came back from the kitchen with a coffee in her hand, "there are some eighteen year olds still hiding at home with their parents and trying to hang on to high school."

Laura smiled, looking embarrassed as she tossed the last of her books into her book bag. "We got married, and had a son, so we're working with it. We're not trying to impress anyone."

"Good for you," the fourth member of their small study group, a rather quiet and reserved girl who was standing by the window watching the dark street outside as they took a break, spoke up, "you want a ride? I should be going too."

* * *

"And stay put this time? Mommy'll be home soon, I promise," twenty year old Fenton Hardy put his son back in his cot for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.

As much as he had always liked kids, and found Frank's determination to get to wherever he thought he was going was amusing, it didn't help to have the constant interruptions when he was trying to write a paper. And when his wife was out much later than she had said she would be when she had been planning to walk home alone, late at night, in New York City. _At least, I hope she will be, _he thought to himself, gently trying to pry his pen out of the child's suprisingly strong grip, which he had somehow managed to grab when he had picked him up.

He sighed as he went back to the table and reread the last thing he had written, trying to pick up his train of thought and push out thoughts of Frank and Laura. Five minutes later he had given up, and was dialling his wife's cell phone number. He would rather have her annoyed at his being 'overprotective' that have to keep wondering where she was.

"You have a son here who's starting to think his daddy's a liar."

Laura chuckled as she heard Frank repeat 'Mommy!' in the background. _"I'll be back soon, I just left. Everything okay otherwise? Sorry I stayed late, I know you've got a paper to do..."_

"Yeah, we're fine. But if mommy doesnt get to Frank, Frank is going to come to mommy,"

"_Put him in the cot."_

"Have I ever mentioned our son's going to grow up to be a great escape artist? He's almost as good at picking locks as I am, and I've got twenty years detective experience over him."

"_Better be careful if you want to keep that reputation of yours. He's not supposed to be following in your footsteps until he's at least a teenager." _the girl teased. _"Anyway, I'll see you soon."_

"Okay. Be careful."

However, soon would turn out to be longer than either of them had expected, and by the time she got back, the obstinate Frank would have escaped again and have curled up in his sleeping father's lap. Which would work perfectly for Laura.

* * *

_Fent is going to kill me, _the boy thought as he looked at the small, still figure on the ground in front of him. _He's taught her well, they don't usually know I'm there... wish he hadn't, she'll recognize me and tell him. Then he'll never talk to me again._

"Sorry Laura." he murmured, turning away and unconsciously looking toward the upper windows of the surrounding buildings, wondering where the people were that he knew were watching.

* * *

Fenton stirred as he felt his wife sit up suddenly, no doubt from another nightmare, and sat up beside her, gently rubbing circles in her back.

"You okay? You've been having these nightmares a lot lately," he said softly. _I know something happened the other night, why won't you talk to me about it?_

"I'm fine...I'm going to go check on Frank, you go back to sleep."

"Okay."

_I don't want to lie to you, but how can I tell you someone... Jake of all people... did that?_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: nah, it's not a different story, just taken from a completely different angle. And sped up to the Frank and Joe parts too... it'll be a regular HB story starting next chapter, which even I'll say is better than it was before... :D **

**read and review!**


	2. Eighteen years later: The Return

**A/N: Yes, I am still working on this :p I had writer's block, then it changed direction and it probably needs a title change, but I couldn't think of anything clever, so I'll get around to it later... sometime...**

**Thanx for the reviews! And the compliment ;-)**

* * *

"I'm so sorry, you just looked so much like him... it was nice to meet you anyway. Matthew." the flustered woman smiled as she hurried away.

She, like many others before her, had mistaken the tall dark haired dinstinguished looking man for the famous private investigator Fenton Hardy. More than one had said that if he had been a few years younger, they might have been twins.

And Matthew Hardy liked the confusion. It was interesting and he was hearing things about his son he might never have known otherwise.

He walked into the New York City post office and searched for the box as he had been directed in the letter he was holding, a well read letter that was becoming unreadable along the fold lines from being folded and unfolded so many times. He unlocked it with the key that had been supplied in the envelope.

Inside were only two objects; one, a cell phone that had already been programmed and the other a photograph.

The photograph was a family portrait with five members. He already knew the blonde haired woman and her husband, as well as he knew the aunt who had been included in the picture, apparently considered as part of the family.

It was the two teenage boys in front of their parents, each with a hand on their shoulder, that caught his interest. One of them, a blond haired boy who looked slightly younger than his brother, had his mother's blond hair and blue eyes, but the older one was dark haired and hazel eyed, just like his father. Proof that a strong famly resemblance didn't only exist in two generations of the Hardy family, but three.

He flipped the photo over when he noticed writing on the back, assuming it to be a list of who was in the picture and the date it had been taken.

_Don't forget we got you out_, was scrawled in untidy, almost illegible handwriting.

* * *

"Joseph! No cookies before dinner, you'll ruin your appetitie!"

"Sorry Auntie," the seventeen year old boy quickly pulled his hand out of the cookie jar as his tall, angular aunt advanced on him.

Gertrude Hardy didn't technically live with her brother's family in Bayport; however, she would often invite herself to stay for abnormally long visits, during which the Hardy household and all the people in it – including her brother – was under her control.

However, despite her old fashioned ways and the dire warnings she constantly directed at her nephews ever since they had started following in their father's footsteps, they knew she meant well.

"Come on Auntie, be honest," he wheedled, perching himself on the counter, "you've never been interested in being a detective? Or at least some kind of law enforcement?"

"It was of more interest to your father – get off of there," she ordered, turning round and spotting him, swatting at him with the teacloth she was holding. "But yes, at one point we were both working with our dad."

"So was it the kind of phase that every kid goes through, like being a firefighter or ballet dancer, or because your dad was a detective?" his year older brother Frank had wandered into the kitchen, pulling on his coat as he jangled his car keys.

"Our father was a detective," she nodded.

"So what happened to him?" Joe asked curiously, "neither of you talk about him or your mom, we were starting to think they were both dead or something. And I don't think I've ever heard of him as a detective, either," he added, glancing at his brother, who nodded his agreement.

"Well, they got divorced, just before Fenton went to college. I suppose we lost contact with them after a while; it was a messy divorce and she was angry with all three of us, not just dad. She had threatened to leave when we got interested in his work, and said if dad encouraged us or we got hurt, she would leave; so, when Fenton almost got put in the hospital, she made good on her promise. And by then, even though I'd decided I wasn't interested enough to make it my career, it was too late."

She paused, lost in her memories for a moment, and the boys kept still, waiting for her to continue.

"A couple of years after the divorce – Fenton and I were both living in New York for college, but he had already married your mother by then, so they were living together. I think it was just after you were born," she directed at Frank, "that we got a message that our mother had been killed. Murdered. That was what made your father decide what he wanted to do; he wanted to help stop people from getting hurt and to bring justice to the people that were."

"He did that," Frank smiled proudly, thinking of his father's now international reputation.

"So? Did he – anyone – ever find out what happened to your mom?" Joe asked, still keen to hear the rest of the story.

His aunt smiled sadly, and shook her head slowly.

"There are people still trying to figure out who did it," she told them, "but their prime suspect has always been our father. That's why you've never heard of Matthew Hardy; it ruined his reputation. Fenton's lucky people trust him and don't connect the two."

"But they at least proved he was innocent, right?" Frank pressed.

Gertrude gave him a strange look before she quickly changed the subject.

"Aren't you boys supposed to be picking your mother up from the station?

* * *

"It's unlike you two to get so distracted by something other than a case," Laura Hardy chuckled when they finally go to the train station, hugging each of them in turn.

"Sorry mom," Frank apologized, opening the trunk of the car and putting her bags inside.

"We were talking to Aunt Gertrude about her and dad's parents," Joe explained as he climbed in behind the wheel and they pulled away.

"They don't talk about them often do they?" their mother murmured, "Fenton did tell me about Matthew's accident... a tragic loss, they could have been wonderful partners in their own detective agency. Just like you and him will be someday."

Joe glanced at his brother in the rearview mirror, both thinking the same thing. _Loss? _

"Hey, who's that?" he asked, indicating the taxi outside their house and the tall dark haired man climbing out, "can't be dad home yet."

"Sir?" Frank called, approaching him as Joe parked the car.

The man turned, and his face broke into a broad smile.

"Hi! You must be Frank," he greeted, "and Joe," he added as the others joined them. "And Laura! It's been a long – oh..." he cut himself off abruptly as the woman took one look at him, paled and fainted!

* * *

**A/N: nah, it's not completely different from the prologue :p that's just not the main point of the story. Well it is, but... just read, as long as I know what's gonna happen, it's okay :D And I do have a general idea. I don't write by detailed plans, that's why there's so long between posting. My bad :(**

**And if that seemed too dialogue-y... it was necessary for this chapter, I do try to include description and action too :p**

**read and review!**


	3. Answers

Disclaimer: no one you recognize is mine... I think Matthew as a character is mine, I've never seen him mentioned. Technically, if Frank and Joe exist, they have to have grandparents, but given that they haven't aged in 75 or more years... maybe that rule doesn't apply either. Who knows :p

**A/N: wow, long update. This chapter did not want to be written. I think I've got it okay now, you can let me know in the review you're gonna leave :D **

**_sapphiretwin369:_ I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out :p he does come up again, the prologue isn't a completely different storyline, even if I guess it does look like it :D**

**_whitetigers:_ no, it's probably not just you... that's why I was worried it might look like too much dialogue, trying to explain everything :p I'm not sure that this chapter's much better, but there's more action from the next one, promise!**

**_Medieval Liz:_ thanks! I wasn't going to have him coming home yet, and that was what I needed to do to get this chapter done :p yay you and yay reviews! I hope I handled it okay...**

**summary: thanks for all the reviews! I love them and I love you for giving them (who doesn't :p)**

**Now I've bored everyone with a too-long note... on with the story!**

* * *

"So does getting faster at wrapping up these cases mean we're getting better or the cases are getting easier?" Sam Radley remarked, pulling the lever that allowed him to move the seat into a more horizontal position, trying to get comfortable as his partner drove back towards Bayport.

Fenton chuckled, glancing over at him before turning his attention back to the road.

"You forgot, or are we just getting more fancy gadgets to help us out," he corrected, thinking of the computers and technology they were able to use nowadays compared to when a private investigator had had little more than a notepad and pen.

"True," the sandy haired investigator agreed. "You know, I can take over the driving if you want."

"You don't really want me to accept that offer," Fenton accused, "you just got comfortable."

He heard an affirmative grunt in response. "Did you tell Laura you were getting back early?"

"No, I wanted to surprise her."

He had no idea the surprise was going to be on him.

* * *

Laura was annoyed at having had to resort to the 'it's my house, and what I say goes' argument to win against Gertrude's determination for Matthew not to stay, and was equally irritated that while the older woman still refused to give a satisfactory explanation, he seemed to agree and had insisted on staying only that night and moving into a hotel in the morning.

A late dinner was not served until Frank and Joe had finished setting up the guest room, but even with them all at the table it was a rather subdued affair; Matthew seemed slightly uncomfortable to be sitting there, fidgeting like a young child as he kept glancing across the table at Frank and smiling every time he caught the boy's eye; Gertrude was still acting coolly towards her sister in law, and vice versa, as both were still ticked at the other's attitude. Frank and Joe, for their part, were trying to figure out how they could ask questions of their new grandfather without sparking off a new argument between the two women.

"So, uh... you guys are working as detectives too, huh?" he finally broke the silence himself.

"Yep," Frank grinned in relief.

"Mostly working with dad, but we've solved a lot of our own cases too," Joe added, grateful for the conversation.

"Impressive. Fenton didn't start till college, waste of talent if you ask me... where is he, anyway?" he enquired, looking towards the women at the other end of the table.

"Out of town," Laura answered with a forced smile, "he shouldn't be back until early next week."

"Aww, I was hoping I'd get to see him."

"Why, aren't you staying that long?" Joe queried.

He hesitated before he answered, glancing at his daughter. "I'm not sure. It depends on when I get... called back."

"Called back to where?" Frank pressed.

A telephone started ringing before he got the chance to answer, and both teens groaned in unison, glancing at each other in frustration.

Matthew looked towards the telephone mounted on the wall by the door and frowned as he looked around. _Why aren't they answering it?_ _Oh..._ he grinned in embarrassment as he realized it was the cell phone in his pocket.

"Oh, it's mine," he chuckled, "Be right back," he announced as he hurried out of the room, pulling it out.

"Matthew Hardy," he greeted, answering it automatically without a thought of who it might be or checking the number on the Caller ID, momentarily forgetting where the phone had come from.

"_Having fun with the grandkiddies?" _an unfamiliar voice sneered.

"What? I - who are you?" he demanded.

_"Just remember, we got you out. Now do what you're supposed to do." _The warning was followed by a click, indicating that the call was finished.

He hung up, leaning against the wall as fear settled in his stomach. He had forgotten how he had gotten out, or how he had got to Bayport... now they wanted him to do something, and he had no idea what. _I wonder who they are, _he frowned, as he thought about what the caller had said.

He reached back into his pocket, this time pulling out a photograph. The family portrait he had found with the cell phone.

_Don't forget we got you out._

* * *

"Problem?" Gertrude asked when he walked back in.

"Huh? No, it was... a wrong number," he answered abstractedly, not looking up at them as he suddenly became very interested in the plate of food in front of him.

Silence reigned for the remainer of the meal, until Matthew could excuse himself to go and lie down, and Frank and Joe were sent upstairs to finish their homework and get an early night for school the next day.

"I can do it," Laura offered when they had finished piling the dishes into the sink.

"It's no problem," Gertrude retorted, turning on the tap and pretending she hadn't noticed that the younger woman had stopped, and was watching her.

"Are you going to explain what's going on here?" she heard the inevitable words again. "The way you were acting, I was half expecting him to pull out a gun and shoot us all."

"You should ask Fenton," the older woman responded quietly, keeping her focus on her task. "To be honest, he knows more than I do."

Laura waited for her to elaborate. Gertrude continued with what she was doing without turning to look at her.

"Fine. Get on with it, keep your secrets. I'm going to bed, goodnight," she announced in clipped tones, turning on her heel and walking out without waiting for a response.

Gertrude glanced towards the door her sister in law had just disappeared through, and sighed. She knew she could answer all her questions, she even knew why Fenton hadn't told her in all this time. But it wasn't her place to get involved.

* * *

Fenton finally reached the house in the early hours of the morning, and was suprised to see a light on upstairs, in his and Laura's room.

_Let's just hope the alarm isn't turned on, _he thought, remembering several memorable occasions when the alarm had been put on, resulting in a family member almost getting attacked when they got home in the middle of the night.

"Hey honey," he greeted when he got up to their room and found her sitting in bed reading a book - or at least pretending to, as he could see she was holding it upside down. "We managed to get back early, and-" he broke off.

The woman looked up at him, but there was no friendly smile that he was expecting.

"What's wrong?" he demanded in concern, "are Frank and Joe okay?"

"They're fine," she assured him coldly, "as is Gertrude. And your father looks great, for a guy that's been dead for twenty years."

He let out a breath of relief, "well if they're all okay - wait, what? My father?" he exclaimed.

* * *

Frank jerked awake when he heard the telephone in the hall ringing, and quickly climbed out of bed and went to grab it before it woke everyone else.

"Hello?" he greeted, glancing towards his parents' room, surprised to see light through the crack under the door; his father shouldn't be home yet, and it was unlike Laura to stay up so late.

_"I need to speak to Fenton Hardy," _a worried female voice said.

"I'm sorry, he's out of town for the next few days," he explained, instantly intrigued, "but my brother and I are detectives; maybe we can help?" _And get Matt to work with us!_

* * *

"How could you?" Laura exploded, her blue eyes blazing as she showed that she had a temper a lot like Joe's which did not often come to the surface, "Of all the things to lie about... your mother is dead, isn't she?" she accused, struggling to keep her voice down.

She knew she had crossed a line when she saw the hurt look that crossed his features, but she wasn't ready to back down.

"We lied to everyone." he confessed, shrugging off his jacket as he sat on the side of the bed.

"Why? What did he do that was so terrible his own children are pretending he's dead?"

"He didn't do anything - and we did it to protect his reputation. When our mother was murdered - a case that still hasn't been solved - he was the main, and only, suspect."

"How did he end up a suspect?" Laura asked in surprise, thinking of the meek man she had just met, and the kind and gentle man she had used to know.

"Because the last case he worked on before she was killed involved infiltrating a gang. One of their initiation tasks was to kill your wife - or one of your kids if your wife wasn't around for any reason."

"So once he was accused of murder, no one trusted him enough to hire him as a detective anymore. How does this end with everyone thinking he's dead? Failed suicide attempt?"

"No... he became depressed, and turned to alcohol. It got so bad - and his behaviour altered so much - he got the gang's attention, and they got him to rejoin them. And, once he was in, he started climbing the ranks, until it was between him and an older member to get promoted to the top."

"He was chosen over the other guy?" Laura completed. "Who tried to kill him. So that's how he would have died - and the 'murder' you told me about," she added, making him wince. "What actually happened?"

"He almost did die, but he was left brain damaged. The hospital called me and Gertrude, and we arranged with them for him to be put in an institution. It was easy for everyone to believe he was dead because they never saw him." He shrugged, "I know the next question, how come they still don't think he's cured, after so long; all we were ever told was that they wanted to keep him under controlled supervision and medication. I'll call his doctor in the morning and find out what he thinks about him staying awhile... does he look okay to you?" he asked curiously.

"He looks fine." she nodded. "Matthew Hardy an alcoholic... that's hard to believe. He was always like a second father to me," she sighed, staring down at her book without really seeing it.

"You never saw it. We're talking about a guy going from detective who avoided using his gun to a guy that would kill just because he was ordered to." Fenton elaborated sadly. "Laura, I'm sorry I never told you, I-"

"We were married, we could have dealt with it together," she pointed out. "But at least you had Gertrude there," she remarked, her tone softening.

"You were the one person I did want to tell. But it was around the same time Frank was born, and we were trying to look after him as well as being in college, and then we had Joe... eventually so much time had passed that I just thought it would be better not to bring it all up again. If you'd forgotten my twelfth birthday, would you apologize now?"

This raised a small smile as she chuckled. "Of course not."

"And by the way," he pointed out with a smile, leaning over and grasping the book she was holding, "if you're going to pretend to read, at least make sure you're not holding the book upside down."

* * *

**A/N: long chapter, wow. Maybe that'll make up for the time it took for me to post :D So? What do you think? **


	4. The case

**A/N: okay, so I'm obviously not so good with the whole idea of regular updating :p But I'm not going to leave this unfinished, I hate when other people do it (unless they have to) so I don't want to start it myself. Meaning, no matter how long it takes, you're stuck with this till it's done D: be afraid, be very afraid**

* * *

"Hey, I thought I was taking you out, not the other way round," Matthew chuckled as they met outside the school grounds the following day after school and it was Frank and Joe, not him, who led the way.

"We got a call last night," Frank explained, "a woman with a case. She asked us to come over this afternoon."

"And we figured maybe we could work on it together," Joe continued, "work with you instead of dad. You used to be a detective, right?"

"Right..." Matthew nodded, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"And besides, it only sounds like a simple kidnapping case," Frank elaborated, "her son disappeared; he probably ran away or something."

"There's no such thing as a simple case, especially with missing kids," Matthew corrected, glancing up the road behind them as they walked, "and when they disappear like that, you have to figure out if they were kidnapped, ran away, or ran away and then got into trouble, before you can even start looking for them."

"What's wrong?" Joe asked, turning to look behind them as he noticed him keep looking back.

"Nothing, I just..." he shrugged as he frowned. "Why don't we get something to eat first?" he suggested brightly, spotting a diner a few blocks further down the road.

The meal turned out to be disappointingly unrevealing, as the only answers they got to the questions they asked were the same as what they had already been told or worked out for themselves. Except for when the matter of his wife came up; then he got strangely quiet and changed the subject as quickly as he could.

* * *

Mrs. Tylen's house was a small, whitewashed building with a neat garden and a short fence separating the lawn from the pavement, only a few streets away from the school.

"Hi, I'm Frank Hardy, and this is my brother Joe," the boy introduced himself to the middle aged, tall, slim brunette who answered their knock, "and this is our grandfather, Matthew."

"Hi, I've been expecting you," she smiled, as she stepped back to let them through, closing the door behind them.

The sitting room was comfortable and cosy; a deep green sofa and two armchairs around a small coffee table, facing the old fashioned stone fireplace, that matched the curtains hanging undrawn at each window, letting through the dazzling winter sunshine.

"So, how can we help you, Mrs Tylen?" Joe asked as they all took seats, politely declining their hostess' offer of drinks.

"Call me Bridget," she corrected with a smile, which soon faded as she glanced towards the mantelpiece, then down at her clasped hands. She sighed. "About five years ago, my husband and my son disappeared," she began. "After a few months, my husband came back, but he was... changed."

"Changed how?" Matthew asked as Frank got up and walked over to the mantelpiece, slowly moving along as he studied each of the framed photographs there.

"He was more bad tempered, and violent," she explained, fidgeting, "he started hitting me for no reason... then that became abuse," she admitted quietly, hanging her head as if she was ashamed.

"Where is he now?" Joe asked.

"He was arrested," she told him, "for the abuse and...he..."

"He tried to kill you," Matthew supplied quietly.

Her head jerked up at him, and for a moment she looked afraid. She nodded as the boys glanced at each other.

"But he's out of jail now," she added, "I have a restraining order against him, and he hasn't broken it - in fact I haven't seen him since the police took him away."

"What about your son?" Joe asked, "did he tell you where he was? Did he know what had happened to him?"

"That was why I called you... it's going to sound strange," she confessed with a forced chuckle, "he disappeared all that time ago... my husband wouldn't tell anyone anything about where he was or what had happened to either of them, or even whether or not they were together. The police were looking for him, but of course, after the first couple of years they assumed he was dead and gave up the search."

"It's unusual for anyone missing that long to be found again," Frank remarked thoughtfully, speaking for the first time since they had arrived. "Is that your son?" he asked, holding one of the pictures in front of her.

She nodded, "that's the three of us," she pointed out, "but it was taken just before he vanished, he's only about twelve there."

"So, what's happened now that made you call us?" he asked, walking over to the others to show them the picture, "was there a new lead?"

There were two people in the photograph alongside their hostess; her husband was a short, stocky man with a thick mustache and dark curly hair with glasses and an arm looped around his wife's shoulders. Their son was standing in front of them, a young boy that looked small for his age, with wire rimmed glasses like his father and rather long brown hair. He had dimples in both cheeks as he smiled at the camera, and freckles across his cheeks and nose, emphasized by the paleness of his skin.

"Not exactly," Bridget answered, "actually, my son came back a few days ago."

"Came back?" Joe and Matthew chorused.

She nodded, "just showed up on the doorstep as if he had spent the night at a friend's house." She smiled at their look of confusion, "you're wondering why I called you, if he's come back. To be honest, I've thinking maybe it's better that I found you boys instead of your father."

"Is there something wrong with him?" Frank asked.

"He's been acting strangely. Not a lot different from how strange his father was when he came back."

"So they might have been to the same place," Joe remarked, "you're worried he's going to do something?"

"I'm worried about him," she confirmed anxiously, "he wont talk to me about what happened to him or where he's been - and we used to be very close - and I don't like the friends he's hanging out with recently. And his behaviour is different... he's more angry, more rebellious than before."

"So you want us to find out who these friends are and what he's doing with them," Matthew stated.

"And to find out where he was and what happened to him," Frank added.

She nodded, looking at each of them hopefully. "Will you help?" she pleaded, "I just want my Mitch back the way he used to be... or at least to understand what he's been through, so I can try and help him."

"Of course," the three Hardys chorused with reassuring smiles.

* * *

They stayed at the house to discuss the case with her further and get the few other details that she could give them. She gave them permission to go upstairs and look around her son's and her room, which gave the three detectives the chance to talk.

"Hey Joe, you should feel right at home here," Frank teased as they opened the door to Mitch's room and looked at the chaos inside. "You know how to deal with mess; how do you find what you're looking for?"

"Funny," the younger boy muttered as he made his way inside, carefully stepping over the things lying on the floor. He stood still and looked around. "I guess we should get started."

"Hey, Matt," Frank remarked after a few minutes of silent searching, "you looked like you understood something from what she was saying. Do you remember something like this happening before?"

"It sounded a little familiar," he admitted after a pause, "but it's been so long, I can't be sure. What we really need to do is talk to this son, see what he knows."

"Maybe we shouldn't talk to him as detectives," Joe suggested suddenly, "if he won't talk to his own mother, and probably not the police either, he's not going to want to talk to us."

"He might recognize the name if we just go up and introduce ourselves," Frank said, "or, if she's around, his mother might mention we're detectives and she's hired us."

"You boys want to go undercover?" Matthew asked hesitantly.

"If we can find out who these friends are, and where we might be able to find them, we should be able to convince them we want to get into the gang," Joe continued, getting excited as the plan began to take form, "that'll get us closer to him, and we can try to get his trust."

"Or it could go wrong and you two could end up disappearing for five years," Matthew interjected, starting to sound panicky.

"Going undercover is always a risk," Frank reminded him, glancing at him and frowning at how unsettled he looked. He closed the drawer he was looking through and straightened. "We're not going to find anything here," he announced, looking round one last time. "Bridget gave us the friends' names, let's go see what we can get from that."

Matthew quickly ducked out of the room as if he was grateful to be leaving.

"It doesn't sound a little familiar," Joe voiced what they were both thinking, "he knows more than he's saying."

"Maybe he did kill his wife," Frank said slowly, "and he did it for the same reason that Mr Tylen tried to kill his."

"But if he's not going to tell us, who is? Mom and dad aren't going to tell us anything, and I think Aunt Gertrude's said everything she's going to say."

Frank's answer was interrupted by a crash from downstairs, accompanied by a yell. They glanced at each other before they raced down the stairs to see what was happening.

"Mitch, stop it!" Bridget was screaming.

Matthew was being pinned back against the wall, beside the overturned table that had made the crash, held there by a very big, very angry Mitch Tylen. The look of fury on his face as he kept the man pinned left no doubt that he would like nothing more than to kill him there and then.


	5. Revelations

**A/N: lol, okay, after saying I hate abandoned stories or abandoning stories myself, that's exactly what I go and do :o But here's the next chapter, and I'm planning to try and finish it this time :)**

* * *

"Mitch, stop it!" Bridget was yelling, fruitlessly trying to pull him away.

Gone was the small, pale, freckled boy from the family snapshot; this Mitch Tylen was bigger, stronger, more tanned... and with an evil glint in his eyes as he kept the older man pinned seemingly effortlessly, brushing his mother off like an annoying child.

Joe wasted no time in marching forward and yanking him off.

"What do you think you're doing to our dad?" he demanded.

"Dad?" Mitch repeated, looking from one to the other. His brow wrinkled suspiciously. "Why are you here?"

"We're new," Frank explained quickly, "we were told to come to you, maybe you and your gang could teach us a few things."

The boy visibly relaxed as he took in this new information.

"It's a unit, not a gang," he corrected as he knelt down to pick up the pencil and pad that had been on the table next to the telephone. "And what did you bring him for?" he laughed, "you've sure got a lot to learn."

"So that's why you got so mad when you saw me," Matthew seemed to understand, even if the boys weren't sure they did. "You thought I was an Alkie and she was my test or something."

"Wasn't wrong, was I?" Mitch grinned, handing Joe the paper he had written on. The boy glanced at it and saw it had a time and address.

"Be there," Mitch told them cryptically, "Just you two," he added with a grin, glancing at Matthew.

"That was interesting," Joe remarked as the trio left, "So, what's an Alkie and what is it he thinks we are?"

"An Alkie - the Alkies - is the gang he's gotten himself into," Matthew began slowly, "they're-"

* * *

"Nothing more than an organized bunch of child abusers!" To say that Fenton was against the idea of their going undercover was an understatement. "Matt, how could you agree to this?"

"But Mitch-"

"Boys, could you leave us alone for a minute?" Fenton requested.

Frank and Joe exchanged glances before Joe spoke up tentatively, "it was our idea, dad - he just..."

"I know. Out, please."

"Who's the father here?" Matthew beat him to it as soon as the door was closed behind them, "You can't-"

"I can't? Back then, it was you doing it to yourself; you were my father and there was nothing I could do to stop you. But this time, this time it's my sons who get hurt, my wife who's at risk of being killed or worse. What?" he asked as he paused and noticed the way Matthew was looking at him.

"After... you... you still believe I killed her?" he confirmed incredulously.

"My father didn't, no." Fenton responded immediately, staring him straight in the eye. "Matt the Alkie did. You got too far in, as far as being initiated. Killing her was a test to see if you were suitable for promotion. Carlson had the same test that night, to kill his daughter. Except she managed to escape, and he lost his chance."

"Escape?" Matthew repeated, "You don't get out of chains by yourself. She had help, and... how could you?" he finished, his voice breaking as he stared at him.

This finally broke Fenton's steady gaze as his eyes dropped to the desktop.

"It backfired," he explained quietly, "the plan wasn't just to get her away, it was to get mom away too. There was a risk that he would accuse you of sabotaging him, but he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it or he would have been kicked out. But Jake didn't get to you in time and... you know the rest."

"What difference would it have made if you had stopped me from getting promoted? I still would've been in the gang."

"It wasn't that, it was the power that came with it. Matt, do you know what would have happened once they started finding out you were at the head of a gang like that? We'd still be trying to clear the Hardy name."

He stopped as he realized Matthew was no longer listening. Something had suddenly clicked as the letter and the writing on the photograph suddenly made sense. They were going through with their plan, he decided. They had to. It was why he was there.

* * *

**A/N: sorry it's short, I haven't worked on it for a while and I need to get back into the story. It's something though, right? :p I will update faster this time, promise!**


	6. Mistakes

The next evening found the trio ignoring Fenton's warnings and heading toward the address Mitch had given them, which turned out to be a house in one of the more unsavoury areas of Bayport.

On Matthew's advice they had left the van a few streets away and as they drew closer they saw why; unlike the affluent area the Hardys lived in where there was a car in every driveway, there were hardly any here.

"Not many of them own cars," he explained, "they drink a lot and usually can't drive so they don't waste the money. There are a few vehicles that belong to the gang in general, though."

"You'd better wait here," Frank announced as they came to a stop outside the nondescript structure. "He did say to come alone."

"Right," the detective agreed. "Be careful."

"Does he seem strange to you?" Joe asked as they headed down the overgrown path toward the front door and out of earshot. "Ever since he had that talk with dad he's been…"

"Excited," the older boy supplied with a frown of his own. "Yeah, I noticed. He suddenly started remembering a lot more, too. I don't think we even need to be here, I'll bet he could tell us everything from experience."

"You don't think that experience includes…" Joe couldn't bring himself to finish the question. The idea of their father and aunt being abused was too surreal. "Do you think this is a trap?" he asked instead.

"Mitch and Bridget seemed to be for real," Frank reasoned, "if they're in on it, they put on a good act. That doesn't mean there's no connection between Mitch turning up at the same time Matthew reappears, though."

Reaching the door, Joe raised a hand to knock. He had barely brought his fist down to pound the thick wood for a second time when it was swinging open with a loud creak.

"Hi!" it was Mitch on the other side, grinning at them as he moved aside to let them through. "Come on in."

Frank and Joe moved through the door and were immediately confronted by a tall, muscular man who seemed to have been on his way out. He looked them up and down managing to keep his face completely expressionless, then continued on towards the door.

Mitch led them further down the hall and through a door into the sitting room, where three other teens were already sitting.

"This is Frank and Joe," he announced, gesturing to each of the brothers in turn as they took seats.

Beth was a girl no older than twelve, with lank blond hair and a prominent scar on her left cheek that looked like she had been backhanded; Simon a boy closer to Frank and Joe's own age with a shock of unruly dark hair and Pete was a tall, well built teen wearing a short sleeved shirt that displayed the impressive scar that ran the length of his arm from just above the wrist to just before the elbow.

Matthew frowned as he heard the door open again a few seconds after the boys had disappeared inside. He saw someone come outside and start down the path, looking around as if he expected to see someone.

"Hardy?" he called out at last, on reaching the end of the path with no success. "Oh, there you are," he greeted as the detective finally revealed himself.

"Jim," Matthew responded, having no difficulty recognizing one of his old friends.

"Nice move using Tylen, wish I'd thought of it."

The detective smirked. "The mother called them herself; it was all their idea to take the case, and come here tonight. Fenton has no reason to be suspicious of me – or think anything's happened, at least for a while."

"Excellent," his companion chuckled. "Come on, we'd better get going. Plans to make."

"What if Frank and Joe try to leave?" Matthew hesitated, looking back towards the house.

"They won't get far. Pete has his orders."

* * *

Not having been given a reason to think anything had happened didn't stop things at the Hardy home from being awkward.

Fenton had been mentally kicking himself since he had found out they had left the house; he knew his father had given in too easily to have meant what he said and wondered why he hadn't spoken to Frank and Joe himself to warn them of the dangers of what they were getting themselves into.

His sister seemed to be sharing his concerns; she had had less contact with the institute and the doctors over the years, but she asked him enough questions to know how potentially risky it was for Matthew to be left alone with the boys, let alone have the three of them working on a case involving his old gang. He could tell she was having a hard time keeping her usually sharp tongue from lashing out at Laura for being so stubborn about Matthew staying, and was subconsciously avoiding both of them; Gertrude couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know and as much as he wanted to help his wife feel better, at that moment he couldn't help wishing he had been at the house when his father had arrived so he could have sided against her and made sure he didn't stay longer than the one night.

* * *

Laura sat in the swing on the back porch, absently pushing herself back and forth as she stared out across the backyard. Matthew Hardy had always been the man she considered a much more exciting father than her own, when she had met the Hardys as a teenager; the life of a detective seemed much more fun, and the way Fenton would tell her stories about their cases, he made them sound like something straight out of a mystery novel and, if possible, made himself even more enthralling.

Marrying him had taught her the realities of that line of work, and shown her that it wasn't quite as romantic as it seemed, yet she never regretted the decision; although she sometimes wished Frank and Joe hadn't decided to follow in his footsteps – at least at such an early age - she preferred to be married to him and know what was happening first hand than having him be a famous friend who she had to find out about via the media.

The revelation that Matthew was not only not dead but was being kept in an institution because the doctors didn't consider it safe for him to be released would have been shocking enough; coupled with the fact that he was now alone with her sons and they didn't know where they were, it was even worse.

She looked around as someone came outside and Fenton smiled as he looked down at her.

"I'm sorry about this," he offered quietly. "If you had known, you would have known that it was best to let Gertrude have her way. If I'd been here, I could have-"

"Where are you going?" Laura cut in gently, unable to let him continue to blame himself for something they weren't even sure had happened yet.

"See if I can find them. I'll tell my informants to keep a look out for them, too."

She nodded with a slight smile. "Be careful."

* * *

Frank and Joe were finding out for themselves what they were getting themselves into. Pete was a little too anxious not to let them leave the house, delaying them every time they tried to leave, and finally convincing them to come with the group to the local bar instead.

"Fenton! Jake!" someone yelled out as they walked in, and they looked around for their father.

The other patrons also started and looked towards the door, many of them standing up and ready to bolt. As they realized who the shouter was referring to though, they laughed and returned to what they had been doing.

"Is he talking about us?" Joe murmured.

"This isn't good," Frank muttered as they followed Pete and the others to a table.

* * *

**I said I wasn't going to stop! It's the summer... without schoolwork to procrastinate on, I don't write. And with that logic, you should be happy to hear I'm going back in a couple of weeks :p**


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